


forgotten temple

by motheyes



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), anyway shoutout to the aaa!, gratuitous descriptions, i do not know how to tag this., there's literally almost no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23496781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motheyes/pseuds/motheyes
Summary: there's an old, derelict temple at the bottom of a canyon. inside it are the remnants of heroes past.
Relationships: Wild (Linked Universe) & Everyone
Comments: 17
Kudos: 148





	forgotten temple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lu_marii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_marii/gifts), [mochibun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochibun/gifts).



> this was written in a fever dream over the course of several 3am sessions. hope you enjoy!

the forgotten temple sits at the base of a canyon, quiet, decaying, and peaceful. nature has reclaimed it, vines and moss and grass creeping through cracked floors and walls. the dilapidated ceiling lets the sun in at certain hours, illuminating the shrines within with brilliant light.

link stumbles across this old, old temple when he’s on his way to vah medoh, jumping across canyons and hiking over mountains with no regard for the roads. he’s halfway ready to scale the cliffside beside him before he turns and sees the imposing shape of the temple. shrugging, he gathers his meagre things, trekking towards the temple.

he steps in the front door and he hears the signature chimes of a guardian, the red lasers zeroing in on his chest seconds later. he ducks behind a convienently-placed rock and pulls out his shield, and a half hour later he stumbles into the back of the temple. there’s one last doorway, past the final guardian, and he ducks into it, shield ready to parry in case he hears that shrill beeping again. he doesn’t, though, and so he forges onwards. 

at the sight of the next chamber, he slowly lowers the gerudo shield, spinning on his heels to see the entire room. there are ten alcoves cut into the walls of the circular room, each with a statue and a mural behind it. they’re clearly in some sort of chronological order. the bare, faded paint of the one to the left of the doorway contrasts the slightly less faded paint of the one to the right. the rest in the middle are in varying in-between stages. a skylight cut into the ceiling lets the pale glow of the morning sun in, and the cracked, patchy ceiling only lets more of that soft light filter down.

he wanders from alcove to alcove, peering into each, staring at the statues for a solid minute. 

the first one is almost completely unrecognizable to whatever its designer must have intended it to look like. the mural of the paint behind it is completely gone, and sections of the cracked stone are missing. the statue is in a similar state. it’s kneeling, head bowed behind the hilt of a sword that its hands are folded over. one of its pointed ears is completely gone, and link can only find the tiniest shards of what he thinks was once an earring on the ground. its long hat is the same, the entire tip completely missing. link can see some of the statue’s fingers on the ground next to where the tip of the blade rests, and chunks are gone from its torso and arms and legs.

link kneels in front of the statue just as it kneels in front of him, staring at the ground. and then, he stands back up, moving along.

the second is very similar to the first, though with a few striking differences. it’s in significantly better shape than the last, to begin with. the mural is still completely gone, though the statue is in one full piece. its arms are thrown out to either side carelessly, its head tilted to one side, basking in the sun. a cape of some kind flows behind it, blowing in the same invisible wind as the statue’s hair. its face is split in a blinding smile, rather than a frown, and the sun’s light pools on its closed eyelids. despite how it’s made of cold stone, the statue looks soft and kind and regal. 

however, there’s a sword belted to its hip, reminding link abruptly that, no matter how peaceful this shrine may be, standing in front of him is still a reminder of a fierce warrior. the hero before him was someone forced to fight for his home, forced to kill, and the kid beneath this statue now can only guess at who this person used to be.

link stares up at the skylight in tandem with the frozen statue. the sky, partially visible through the stained, dirty, cracked glass, is clear and blue. he’s struck with a sense of longing, then, yearning to explore the beautiful wilds once more. he stays, looking up and out quietly, taking in the sunlight, for a few more moments, before he turns away.

unlike all the rest, the third alcove is dark and shadowy. it’s cut far deeper into the wall than the rest are so that the sunlight cannot reach it. the statue stands in the entrance, and, peering past it (easily considering its height), link can only somewhat see what’s inside. it appears that the mural was once made of glass, though its shattered remains now coat the ground, faintly glimmering in the little light that reaches them. link stares at them for a few more moments, imagining what they could have once depicted, but the circular frame of the once-mural gives him no hints. 

turning back to the statue he stands directly in front of, link looks down at its head. it’s crouched slightly, a protective arm thrown out to its side as it brandishes its sword in front of it. it glares up at an enemy that’s not there, mouth drawn in a snarl, brow furrowed. he looks back into the dark depression in the wall. the shattered glass still sits on the ground.

pulling out the sheikah slate for light, link steps over the tiny, outstretched arm of the statue. he bends down to pick up a piece of glass, before thinking better of it, cradling the slate in his arms as he pulls on a thick pair of gloves. then he gets to work. the shards of glass are picked up, piece by piece, and are stacked in tidy rows in front of the frame of the mural. finally, when the floor is clean, link clambers back over the statue’s arm, hooking the sheikah slate back on his hip. he doesn’t know why, but he gives the shadow a brisk nod. it doesn’t move, but it seems to nod back. sheikah slate firmly secured, it’s time for the next alcove.

the next statue isn’t looking at the skylight, like most of the others are. it’s looking off into the distance, in a direction obscured by a wall. in its hands is an odd instrument, one that looks almost like a tiny, strangely-shaped ship. the instrument is cupped up against the statue’s mouth, fingers and lips still but playing a silent melody. against all logic, link strains his ears to listen, and against all logic, he can almost hear a soft, gliding melody, strangely familiar. (the next time he visits a stable, he comes to a standstill in front of kass, clapping a hand to his forehead and exclaiming, oh, that’s where!)

just like the rest, the color of this statue has faded, save for some small marks. those marks decorate the right side of its face and its forehead. there’s two red slashes of war paint across its right cheek and an odd, horseshoe-like shape dashed on its forehead. the eye just above the red marks is squinted shut, and it takes a moment for link to realize that this is because of the jagged, colorless scar that runs through it. 

link moves to stand next to the statue, staring closer at its face. what are you looking at, he thinks, and pulls out his sheikah slate to see what’s nearby on the map. the cardinal direction it’s looking seems to be southeast, a bit more of an emphasis on the south than the east, but there’s nothing notable nearby. he continues running the cursor of the slate down the statue’s line of sight, until finally, on the other side of the map, he reaches something.

malanya’s spring, he thinks. odd. he marks it, telling himself he’ll drop by soon.

that done, he strolls over to the next statue.

the first thing that link notices about the fifth alcove is the flowers. the second thing is the elaborate mural behind the statue. it’s divided into six panels, each depicting a vastly different scene. one shows three dancing figures, red and green and blue, while another has some nightmarish form of hyrule, its dark triforce inverse and its skies purple. a third is a painting of a giant egg atop a mountain, seagulls flying in the background, and the whole panel seems to shimmer and shift, threatening to give link a headache. he looks away and at those strange red flowers again.

he doesn’t know why, but he bends down to gently pick a flower, taking a moment to examine it. it’s red, five round petals surrounding a large yellow pistil, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything like it before. he looks at the statue in front of him, and something compels him to tuck the flower behind one of its ears, the red of its petals blinding compared to the faded pink and blonde of the statue’s hair.

something tells him the statue is thankful. he hurries onward.

next is a shockingly simple alcove. its cracked stone is overgrown and mossy, the statue plain and undecorated. pale light dapples down onto the statue’s upturned face, giving the impression of freckles, and its unpainted stone eyes shine bright. the mural is long faded, though link feels that it perhaps wasn’t much to look at anyway. 

even among the faded and run-down shrines of the other heroes, this one is utterly unremarkable. its feet are crumbled into the ground, overrun by grass. giant chunks of the once-mural are missing from the wall, scattered around the nearby floor. by all rights, nothing about this alcove isn’t broken in some way.

and yet, looking at the statue’s face, its cheekbones highlighted by the sun, its raised shield and sword catching the light, something about it is powerful. i do not deserve to have been forgotten, it says. look at me.

and so, link brushes some moss off of the statue’s shoulders, stacks some of the shattered stones on the floor into neat (or at least neater) piles. after a couple more attempts to tidy up this shrine, he steps back, nodding. not much has been changed, but even after just the most minimal of efforts, the statue looks far more confident. link moves on, though he never puts this alcove out of mind.

unlike the others, the next statue isn’t turned towards the sun, but rather towards the mural behind him. the paint that once coated the mural is almost entirely gone, but the grooves carved into the stone wall stay, and it appears that the paint once depicted a beautiful sky, frozen in either sunrise or sunset. 

squeezing past the statue’s back and into the small space between the wall and the statue, link stares up at the statue’s face.

its lips are frozen in a worried frown - or maybe it’s the mournful grit of a person trying not to cry. its eyebrows slant downwards, as well, just above tired and upset eyes. those, however, aren’t what immediately catches link’s attention. the statue’s forehead and cheeks are decorated in oddly-familiar markings that, despite the dirt and grime, stand out from the aged stone they sit on. link peers at them. they are inlaid with something that shines silver, likely the real thing, and he wonders how they haven’t been stolen in the years that have undoubtedly gone by since this temple was regularly attended and properly guarded. reaching up, just a bit above his head, link softly rubs at the markings with the edge of his sleeve. when it fails to do much, he scrubs a bit harder, and finally, the dirt that had been caked over the statue’s face starts to come off. 

by the time link pulls his arm away, the markings shine brightly, reflecting flickering torchlight back onto the stone walls of the alcove. he grimaces, trying to beat the grime off of the sleeve of the bright blue tunic he wears. he’s unsuccessful, and so he looks back up at the statue. its face seems less… severe, now. there’s still a worried crease above its brow, but it looks to be less deep than it was only minutes ago. there’s a soft quality about his eyes, now, and they seem to look down at link. the boy in question feels… almost comforted, by it, and he stays there for a second before squirming back past the statue into the main room, walking on to the next alcove.

this statue, unlike most of the others, stands in a fighting stance, its feet shoulder width apart. its stone hands grip the hilt of its blade tightly, hair and scarf frozen in faux-motion as if the statue was mid-swing when it was created. the sun shines down on its sword. its eyes are fierce, brow furrowed and mouth open in a silent battle cry. 

this statue is of a professional warrior, its stance sharp and refined. it’s everything the hero standing before it once was, crisp, orderly, and clean. despite that, though, it’s fierce and wild. its hair is tousled and the emotion on its face cannot be described as anything but angry.

it looks as though it’s been captured in the moments before a great battle with a greater beast.

still, though, this alcove is peaceful.

link basks in the silence, for a moment, before he moves along.

nearing the end of the room, the penultimate alcove stands out from the others, the seashell mural shining in the light. this is the only mural left with color this bright, as the natural color of the shells outlived the decayed paint around it. it’s almost completely blue, the darker blue of the ocean softly contrasting the lighter blue of the skies. the center has a cluster of small red shells that look like a boat, and tiny green spiral shells sit atop that in the vague impression of a person.

that person’s statue stands in front of the mural in the exact same pose. its hand is slung around a stone mast, the other hand raised against the weak sun of the shrine. its detailed hair and tunic seem to flutter in the absent wind. speaking of, the tunic is studded in more seashells. a white lobster sits on its chest, surrounded by another sea of blue.  
the face has not held up so well. however, despite the long-gone paint, link can see the impression of a grin on its face, childish and carefree.

he hears something, then, a faint rushing, and he spins around, expecting to see some sort of beast coming through the doorway. there’s nothing, though, no movement at all. after a long moment, he looks back at the statue in front of him, and he realizes he can hear the soft sound of the tides, almost as clearly as if he were standing on soka point. the sound is calm and soothing, and there almost seems to be something reassuring about the way the statue grins - it is joyful and carefree, even though the hero it depicts must have been forced through great trials.

turning towards the one shrine left, link smiles.

that alcove wipes that smile off his face.

the final mural is painted like an old tapestry. hundreds of guardians dot the edges, surrounding a terrible red beast in the center. a small castle sits in the center, overshadowed by the great red blemish above it. link can almost see the glow of the guardians’ eyes. it’s bleak, and he stares at it for several moments before he notices the tiny figures dressed in green and white. they stand on either side of the dark beast, the green one’s raised blade and the white one’s raised hand glowing. 

looking at it for the second time, with this revelation, the beast seems to be screaming in pain rather than triumph, and the castle seems to emanate its own light in spite of the dark force over it.

link looks his predecessor’s statue in the eyes, straight ahead. the statue looks back, calm. 

after a long moment, the hero of the wilds nods, and he turns away. his hand ghosts over the claymore on his back, and he thinks of a sword encased in stone on the other side of the wilderness. he knows where he’ll go next.

////

it’s many, many years later (though not as many as it should have been) when the hero of the wild falls. it’s not too much longer before a statue goes up in zora’s domain. it’s not too much longer beyond that before a new alcove is added to the forgotten temple, the statue’s freshly-painted face the last in a long line of decaying heroes.

the mural behind him depicts each region of the country in wide, sweeping brushstrokes, the red flames of death mountain melting into the soft green of akkala. 

his statue smiles softly, scars shining as they catch the sun. his hair and his outstretched hands hold flowers, real and stone alike. his soft blue tunic drapes over his shoulders almost like real fabric. his belt is swordless.

the hero of the wild glows in death, serene and beautiful and kind. 

////

the forgotten temple sits at the base of a canyon, quiet, decaying, and peaceful. nature has reclaimed it, vines and moss and grass creeping through cracked floors and walls. the dilapidated ceiling lets the sun in at certain hours, illuminating the shrines within with brilliant light.

a new hero finds the temple six years later. beside her is the boy who holds the triforce of power. they duck into the temple to get out of the rain and away from it all, and they find a circular room in the back with alcoves chipped into the walls, murals and statues in each. 

in awe, the child walks to the center of the room, spinning to peer at all the shrines surround her.

and, thus, the hero of wonder is met with the smiling face of her father. 

she sucks in a breath, stumbling forward to kneel in the moss at the previous hero’s feet. the boy stands behind her, looking down and away. they both send up silent prayers of forgiveness - the hero for something so recent, the boy for something so long ago.

after a long, quiet moment, the hero stands again, adjusting her patchwork tunic. the blue of her chest and of her left sleeve matches the blue of the statue perfectly. 

blinking away tears, she steps away from that overgrown alcove. she walks down the long line of heroes, staring at each shrine for a moment. she bows her head deeply at the statue of the one marked by the twilight and stops for a moment by the six-paneled mural, squatting to touch the hibiscuses.

she stands and turns, looking at the boy who still squanders by the entrance.

dad used to tell me about this place, she says, a bittersweet smile on her face. i always wondered what it looked like.

////

they spend the night there, out of the cold and rain, protected by heroes past. 

morning comes, though, all too soon, and they know they have to go before anyone can find them.

she takes a final look, as they leave, staring into the warm eyes of the statue in the shape of her father.

he smiles at her. she smiles back, just for a moment, and then she’s gone, back out into the hostile kingdom outside.

**Author's Note:**

> the last couple of sections are about an oc, co-created by luciimariiellii and mochibun. cliffnotes version: her title is the hero of wonder, and she's wild's daughter. this takes place on her fifth adventure when she's on the run from the kingdom of hyrule, and is thus doubting her position as a hero. the kid she's with is ex-yiga, and is on the run with her. hopefully we'll get around to actually publishing some stuff about her at some point, but for now i hold the honorable position of being the first person to mention her on ao3 ;3
> 
> this entire fic was sponsored by: a conversation we had over a week ago on the aaa server. shoutout to all yall for egging me on!! love u all.
> 
> if you're reading this, thank you for reading forgotten temple! i hope it was an enjoyable ride.


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